


Red

by 12gatsunohime (inkstainedwretch)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26848486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/12gatsunohime
Summary: I love my Mistress. My Madam Red.
Relationships: Angelina Dalles | Madame Red/Grell Sutcliff
Kudos: 1





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal, [here](https://12gatsunohime.livejournal.com/99680.html).

I love my Mistress. My Madam Red. 

I love her at dawn, when I bring her tea and scones, when the sunlight flashes bright through the gap in the curtains. When she rouses, lets her form rise, so the sunlight marks her shadow through the breezy curtains hung round her bed, a statuesque darkness amidst the daybreak. 

I love her in the morning, when she sits before her mirror and lets me paint her eyes and lips, such a perfect canvas any artist would die to touch. I trace her lips with red, slick and glistening, and I smile. Sometimes, she smiles back. 

I love her at midday, when she sits by the window and reads her books, the brim of her hat shielding her face from the sun. When she reclines on her sofa, and sometimes asks me to sit beside her, if no one else is there. 

I love her in the afternoon, when I bring her home from her office and remove her coat. When my hands shake as I give her the day's mail, and she gives me a look that calls me hopeless in a sighing, affectionate voice. 

I love her in the evening, when I stand by her side and serve her meal, watching the smallest of bites disappear between those carmine lips. When she says that's quite enough, thank you, and I take it all away. 

I love her at dusk, when her eyes meet mine and I _know_.

I love her at midnight, when we take to the cobblestone streets and run, painting the walls of London a brilliant, beautiful red.

I love my Mistress best in red. 

I love her in the red of sunset, when her eyes burn and her fingers clutch the blade between them as though it were her last hope in the world. 

I love her in the red of wool, when the fabric of her coat shifts over her shoulders and she moves with it, bone under muscle under skin under beauty. 

I love her in the red of satin, a cool gown that slips and slides against her as she searches for sleep on a hot summer night.

I love her in the red of anger, shaking her mirror furiously and screaming at god, demanding a reason for her barren flesh.

I love her in the red of sadness, streaked through her eyes as she holds herself close to my chest, and I tell her that sometimes, there is no reason. 

I love her in the red of lust, blooming on her skin in the wake of my lips, smoldering in her eyes as she holds me close, the red of my hair tangled with hers, the red of her lips smeared across mine. 

I love her in the red of fury, splashed across the both of us as we paint those tarnished human canvases anew, blades and blades dancing across such easily torn skin, such vibrant pigment with which to paint. 

I love her in the red of regret, spilling from her chest with memories and wishes, as our play comes to its end. 

I love her in the red of remembrance, fluttering through the church doors as I watch, far away and out of sight, my heart heavy and still as a stone.

I love my Mistress. My Madam Red.


End file.
